I have this dream of one day being a a road trip, driving down the highway while suddenly getting an urge to turn off on a side road. We drive for a while on this graveled road sided by tall grass and fields as the occasional old wood fence get more frequent. Suddenly the road turns off to the left and on top of a small hill we see an old house. It looks abandoned but not forgotten. 

We argue for a few minutes whether or not we should go up and take a closer look. What if someone is in there? “Why do you always think you’re going to get shot for going on someone’s property?” Venessa asks. I ponder this for a moment and realize that yes, the probability of this happening is slim to none. “How did she die?” “Classic case of trespassing private property” yeah not likely. 

We get out of the car (for some reason I imagine an old Volvo station wagon) and walk closer to the house. There are a few overgrown gardens where wild flowers moved in and old rose bushes braided with weeds. The house is big, it has a large porch with a view of the fields and mountains in the background. The paint is chipped and a few of the porch steps are starting to rot. We walk up to look inside through old glass windows stained with the seasons. It’s one of those moments where you just know, this is where we are supposed to be. This house has waited for years and centuries for us to find it. 

The house has 5 bedrooms and a large kitchen. Room enough for three kids and friends and family. It’s not located that far from our friends anyways but they love to visit and talk about how magical the light is that shines through the sheer curtains in the sun room. There’s dried lavender hanging from the stairs and a fire place that should probably be redone but we don’t care. The floors are old wood and creak as you walk down the hallway. In the cherry tree you replace the old swing with a tire for the kids and I watch them out the (now cleaner) window as I’m doing the dishes from breakfast. Our oldest son is feeding fallen apples to the horse we got him three years ago, she’s throwing her tail back and forth to get rid of the stubborn flies on her back.  He’s standing on the old wood fence we watched while driving up the road the first time, you replaced some of it to stop the horses from getting out. Not that they would ever want to leave.